Irresistible
by astraplain
Summary: Noir puts an unconscious Florian to bed and does some exploring. Disclaimer: Ray, Florian, and all the jewels belong to You Higuri, although Ray might argue about a certain pair of amethysts.


"Bring your bag," Noir ordered as he passed a startled Laila. He didn't wait for her acknowledgement before continuing on, carrying his unconscious burden upstairs to the second floor. He placed Florian on the bed gently, not caring that the sheets would be stained by the man's bloody lash wounds. 

Stepping back, Noir surveyed the pale form, deciding he would be comfortable enough until Laila arrived with her herbs and ointments. Meanwhile, he would use the opportunity to do a bit of exploring.

Florian had brought only one valise when he'd left home as the newest possession of Count Ray Balzac Courland. At the time Noir believed it was the young Rochefort's small act of rebellion. Now, faced with the pitiful state of the man's belongings, Noir wasn't so sure.

Yes, the four shirts were obviously expensive and custom-tailored, but they also bore signs of wear. One even showed evidence of having been mended. Two pairs of pants and three vests revealed similar signs as did the undergarments. The single pair of shoes was brightly polished, but the heels and soles were worn.

Seeing nothing else in the wardrobe, Noir closed it and strode to the bureau, finding only a hairbrush and comb set along with a half-dozen coins - barely enough for a cup of tea at one of the common cafes.

Turning back towards the figure on the bed, Noir studied him with renewed interest. Perhaps his Amethyst wasn't the spoiled little lord he expected. For one thing, he was as light as a child. Perhaps Florian's two-day hunger strike wasn't a new experience. It seemed as though the young Rochefort might have missed more than a few meals in his life.

But what had hardened him enough to remain silent while being whipped? Noir sighed and moved to the bedside, gently smoothing errant wisps of hair away from Florian's face. He was beautiful like this, but Noir much preferred him awake, violet eyes bright and expressive. After all, it was those eyes that captivated him from the first moment.

They were the reason he answered Madam Rochefort's request for an audience, and the cause of his impulsive offer to take charge of her son. And they were the reason he'd dragged his prideful little pet into the cellar – just so he could watch those amethysts shimmer with emotion.

So help him, if he had any sense, he'd return the man to his mother and get out of Paris immediately and not come back until he had burned the vision of those amethyst eyes out of his mind.

Hearing a soft moan, Noir turned back towards Florian, his every survival instinct screaming for him to leave, to avoid those enrapturing jewels.

Florian blinked at him guilelessly as he struggled to awareness.

Too late. Noir felt that odd tightening in his chest, the same sensation he'd felt two days ago when he'd marched his new charge into the study and laid down his duties and obligations. He'd been a bit harsh then, and perhaps he'd been too harsh in the cellar as well. But there was just something… Noir looked down and realized he'd moved to Florian's side without conscious thought. Frustrated, he pulled back and stomped towards the door, intending to shout at Laila for taking so long.

Instead he almost collided with her. She managed to dodge him while holding onto her bundles and cheerfully set about fussing over Florian's wounds. Noir remained in the doorway watching until he realized he was staring at his pet's naked chest. A second later he felt Florian's angry gaze.

"I'll expect you downstairs for breakfast promptly at 8," Noir snapped before stomping out of the room. His footsteps were loud enough that he almost didn't hear Florian's indignant huff.

Noir slammed into his study, bellowing for the nearest servant. Dropping onto his desk chair he snatched up a piece of paper and scribbled out a list, starting with the tailor. He wasn't about to have his Amethyst wearing rags. The list was three-quarters of a page long when he shoved it at the servant with orders to make the arrangements – now!

The man retreated in a hurry and Noir leaned back, lighting a cigar. He hated dealing with tailors and shopkeepers, and his secretary was sure to annoy him with accounts and budgets. No matter, it would all be added to Florian's bill, even the pocket money Noir would insist on providing. Florian would be angry and there would probably be shouting.

Noir smiled. The jewels worth having were always the most troublesome. That's what made them irresistible.


End file.
